Teaching the Sight
by copper-ring
Summary: A new Divinations teacher comes to Hogwarts. Quack or Seer?
1. Default Chapter

The characters settings, rights, and everything else are the property of J.K. Rowling. This is my first fanfic, reviews and advice would be greatly appreciated! ^_^  
  
Prologue  
  
Moonlight fell softly on wavy auburn hair, shimmering on blond strands mixed in among the brown, as bright green eyes gazed out into the night sky over a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles. Professor Trent Winlead turned from the open window and considered the empty corridors of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A warm summer breeze wafted between the gaping shutters and rustled the faded blue velvet of the robes he wore. These halls would soon be full of students. It would be an interesting visit to his past, teaching again. The Divination teacher returned his gaze for a moment to the star-filled heavens, then reached out and gently closed the window. He locked it, and swept silently down the shadowy hall and out through a small door. He moved noiselessly through the mingled darkness and moonlight of the courtyard, very much at home. He opened another door, and reentered the cool darkness of the indoors. He smiled slightly as he reached the door to his office and grasped the handle. He removed the silk covering the antiquated mirror in the corner and examined it for a moment, running over his eyes over the runes inscribed into the gleaming silver. His smile widened. It would be interesting indeed. 


	2. Chapter 1

Teaching the Sight: Chapter 1  
  
Harry blinked slowly as morning sunlight cascaded across his eyelids. He yawned and stretched, looking over at the clock, and then rubbed his eyes, hardly believing what he was seeing. It was 10:30 am, and as yet, no one had banged on his door or burst into his room yelling. Immediately suspicious, he pushed back the sheets and slipped downstairs. Something unnatural was occurring on Privet Drive. He crept silently down to the ground floor and followed the sound of low voices coming from the kitchen. He put his ear close to the door and listened. ". . . you heard what the police said Vernon . . ." "I know Petunia . . . but Dudley . . ." ". . . we're going to have to do something . . ." ". . . don't understand why they can't . . ." Harry leaned closer, trying to hear better, and what he heard next hit him with the chilling force of an ocean of ice water. "Oh Vernon, what are we going to do? The police don't know where to look, they could be holding Dudley anywhere, and even if we pay we may never see him again." Aunt Petunia's normally nagging voice was plaintive, dull, and cracked. A racking sob echoed quietly down the hallway. Harry retreated to his room as quietly as he had come.  
  
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The last few weeks of Harry's summer vacation were quiet and uneventful. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both appeared strained. Uncle Vernon didn't even yell at Harry anymore, not even when he accidentally dropped a bowl on the kitchen floor and it shattered, sending tiny shards skidding across the linoleum. Harry finished his assignments, and chafed in the silence of the house. The neighbors came over, bringing dinner, sending cards and flowers, but after the first week those trickled away to nothing. Harry hated it. The constant quiet, interrupted only by low-voiced conversations in the kitchen, and those interrupted occasionally by a sob, grated on his nerves. Harry felt as if he were living in a tomb. Sometimes he almost wished for Dudley to return and for things to resume their normal course. The apathetic atmosphere wore on and on. At long last, the final week of the summer arrived. It was a Sunday afternoon and Harry found Uncle Vernon sitting quietly in the parlor. He suddenly seemed very old to Harry. Uncle Vernon didn't even grumble when Harry asked him for a ride to the Leaky Cauldron. He just sort of sighed. Harry could have choked on the gloom pervading the air as they drove. Thankfully they finally arrived. Uncle Vernon waited until Harry had unloaded his things, and drove off without a word. Harry inhaled deeply, grateful to be free of the choking air of mourning that shrouded the Dursley household. Old Tom came out and helped Harry carry his things up to his room and saw him settled in. Harry spent the next week replenishing potions ingredients, and waiting on Ron and Hermione. He stopped by Flourish & Blotts for his new books: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, Advanced Transfiguration, and Perceiving Our World, by Claudius Visionus. Ron and Hermione arrived the day before they were scheduled to take the train to Hogwarts. They spent the afternoon at Florean Fortenescue's discussing the changes that had come over the wizarding world now that Voldemort had returned. Wizards seemed more wary now, rustling through the streets, barely pausing to talk, as if they were afraid that Voldemort himself would appear in the middle of Diagon alley. Ministry wizards could be seen monitoring the crowds, keeping a watchful eye out. "I heard we're getting a new Divinations teacher." volunteered Ron. Harry looked up with interest at this bit of news. "What about old Trelawney?" he asked. Ron shrugged. "Dunno, no one's seen her since the end of last year. There's rumors' ranging from her going to join Voldemort to flying to the Alps to wait the whole thing out." Hermione shrugged. "I doubt many people will actually miss her, whatever the reason she left, she was rather batty." Harry grinned at Hermione's pert and exceedingly accurate portrayal of Professor Trelawney. In his 3rd year, she had actually had the class believing that Harry, himself included, was doomed to die. He absently wondered who the new teacher would be. Ron stood up and pushed his chair back. "I'm gonna wander over to the Magical Menagerie and see what they have." Hermione looked nonplussed. "What happened to Pig?" Ron sighed. "He got eaten." Hermione's eyes softened. "I'm sorry Ron. C'mon Harry, let's go with him." The Magical Menagerie was much as Harry remembered it from his last visit. The store was dark, odorous, noisy and full of a wide variety of cages. Shimmering serpents with jewel-toned scales twined about a bush. A fierce looking hawk with gold and brown feathers cried from its perch and gazed down on the interlopers with one of its large grey eyes. They found Ron over to one side, watching a sapphire-colored lizard snoozing softly on its back in a stream of sunlight. Abruptly it yawned and regarded Ron with a great golden eye that shimmered with intelligence. It rolled over and got to its feet, stretching a pair of wings with amethyst undersides. It sat on its haunches and returned Ron's hungry stare. The witch over behind the counter took note of Ron's interest and came over to stand beside them. She looked the creature over with a practiced eye. It seemed almost to radiate smugness back at her. "I'm not sure you want this one m'boy, these fey dragons are whip-smart, and they'll take advantage of you if you let them." The fey dragon that was the subject of this advice immediately did its level best to look as sweet and innocent as possible, but the sparkle of amused intelligence remained in its gleaming eyes. It lowered its head demurely. Ron was captivated. "They may look pretty but you can be sure there's more than just an animal behind those coquettish eyes." Ron looked at the price tag and sighed. In that moment Harry made his decision. "He'll take her." He immediately counted out the price listed on the tag. Ron protested feebly. "But, that's forty galleons . . ." Harry just smiled at him. The tiny creature behind Ron smiled even bigger and gave Harry a conspiratorial wink. "Think of it as an early birthday present," said Harry. He winked back at the lizard. 


End file.
